


glass of whine

by ccauchemar



Series: Espoir [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Gen, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13640262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccauchemar/pseuds/ccauchemar
Summary: Do not solve your problems with alcohol, says her brain, and she drinks anyway.--Something I found in a google doc that I had no memory of writing.





	glass of whine

**Author's Note:**

> Alcohol, medication, a spat between alters.

Fatale did not like sleeping medication.

Her breathing was slow and difficult. It felt like something heavy was sitting on her chest, and her limbs wanted to hang at her sides. Her whole body was sluggish. And worse, its effects were unpredictable, and occasionally unreliable. 

Tonight was one of those nights that everything in her screamed that she was an idiot, and as she put down the bottle of wine, she felt Amélie shriek.

_ Why are you drinking!! _ , she said.  _ Of course the medication is making you feel bad! Don't mix them!!! _

Fatale stared at the bottle, and took another sip. Amélie choked up their throat, and Fatale coughed expensive red wine all over their lap. She spun around in her seat, arms bent spiderlike on the chair and table, and glared at the air where a furious Amélie stood.

The swan glared with pure fury, curled fists trembling at her sides.  _ When you drink, I feel the repercussions, _ she hissed.  _ I have to keep living if you don't. _

“Hmmph,” Fatale said, “You say that as if I haven't noticed the dwindling supply of 2056 Pinot Grigio,” she said, and as Amélie's jaw dropped in shock, she took another swig of wine, directly from the bottle.

_ If you're going to be petty at least use a GLASS! _ Amélie said.

A sick sense of enjoyment at her own drunkenness made Fatale laugh. “Glasses are for the weak,” she said, and settled down on the wooden chair.

Amélie lifted their right hand and slapped Fatale in the face. It echoed in the chateau cellar.

_ You're being cowardly,  _ Amélie said, not caring that Fatale’s head was spinning three ways.  _ Face your fucking emotions. You're not at Talon any more and you don't need to act that way to survive. We have a new routine. Stop running away from your feelings, cry them out, and go to bed. _

“Or what?” Fatale pressed. “You'll spank me?”

_ I WILL slap you again, _ Amélie said.

“I like your fire… You're perfect,” Fatale said.

It was the last straw. Amélie reached for the bottle, and threw it at the wall. It smashed, and deep red wine trickled down the bricks.

_ If you drink any more tonight,  _ Amélie said, venom dripping from every syllable,  _ I will be SURE to make your life HELL. _

She stalked off to her quiet place. Fatale was left alone, her cries ignored, sitting in the dark, with nothing but shards of glass and burning shame for company. 


End file.
